


Punishment

by imera



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Beating, Blood, Blood and Torture, Bloodplay, Humiliation, M/M, Physical Abuse, Punishment, Rape/Non-con Elements, Torture, Verbal Humiliation, Violence, Werewolves, chained
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-23
Updated: 2014-07-23
Packaged: 2018-02-10 03:37:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2009460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imera/pseuds/imera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucius failed, again, but instead of punishing him, Voldemort decides to punish Draco instead, and Fenrir is the one in charge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Punishment

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted something darker, so this story happened. I sort of want to continue this story, but I don't know if I ever will.
> 
> *unbetaed*

The Dark Lord stood in front of his Death Eaters, his face unreadable as he watched Lucius, his motions resembling an animal about to attack its prey. Carefully he moved towards Lucius, his eyes focused on the man who failed him, again. At first glance it looked as if Lucius was calm, but the closer the Dark Lord got, the harder it was for him to keep his appearance calm; he knew what fate awaited him.

“Tsk tsk,” the Dark Lord said in a bored tone, sending a chill through Lucius he couldn’t shake off. He kept his head lowered, not wanting to meet his Lord’s disapproving gaze. “What should I do with you? Any suggestions, Narcissa?”

His wife said nothing at first, then a pale version of her usual determined voice replied. “I don’t know, my Lord.”

“Of course you don’t, you care about him, you wouldn’t want to see him punished.” There was a pause as he continued to walk towards them. The other Death Eaters watched their Lord as he was coming up with a punishment fitting his failure. “You both disappointed me.” Bellatrix cleared her voice, but her Lord paid her no attention. “As none of the punishments I’ve bestowed upon you has worked, I think we must change things a little, maybe punish someone who are dear to you.” Lucius felt Narcissa hand reach for his under the table, her eyes focusing on the centre of the table. He stopped behind them, resting a hand on their shoulders, his sharp nails digging into their clothes, poking at their skin. “Don’t worry, your wife is safe.” 

Just as he figure out what the Dark Lord meant by it, Narcissa’s nails dug into his skin, letting him know she knew as well, and she didn’t like it either. He was too afraid to protest, and their Lord wouldn’t listen to Narcissa’s attempt to plead for Draco; the man, or rather, the creature, had made up his mind. “In a week from now it’s Christmas, and I think it’s time to give him a gift.” Someone in the room giggled, and while Lucius wanted to find out who it was, he was too afraid to look at their faces. Instead he sat silently, awaiting the details of his son’s torture.

✤

Draco knew something was off when two Death Eaters waited for him at the train station instead of his parents. A whisper in the back of his mind told him to run away as fast as possible, but he didn’t. Instead he said nothing as the men grabbed his arm and silently lead him out of the station. He was certain something bad would happen, but no matter how hard he tried, he was unable to will his body to fight his way out of the mess he was in. For a brief moment she wondered if they cast the imperius curse on him, but knew it couldn’t be as it felt nothing like the time his aunt decided to show him.

The Death Eaters took him home, which made him wonder if something happened to his parents. He soon discovered they were alive, even if his father looked horrible, and his mother’s face was red and swollen from crying. He was about to ask what the meaning of their strange behaviour was, when the Dark Lord explained everything. At first it seemed absurd, being punished for his father’s crimes, but the Dark Lord assured him it was no joke. His mother cried harder, which earned her a warning, and his father looked as if his mind was somewhere else. Draco felt ill as he thought about the punishment, and seeing just how his father didn’t even seem to be aware of the situation sickened him.

The two Death Eaters who met him at the station grabbed his arms, pulling him down the stairs which lead to the dungeon. Draco wanted to snap at their brutal treatment, but doubted they would care. They were quiet as they stopped in front of a pair of cuffs dangling from the ceiling by sturdy chains. “Lift your arms,” the Death Eater standing closest to the cuffs said, Draco wanted to protest, but instead he obeyed. One of the Death Eaters said something which Draco didn’t pay attention to, but which made the other man snort at. As soon as the cuffs around his wrists were secured, they grabbed his legs and pulled them apart, closing the cuffs around his ankles.

They were done, and as they were about to leave Draco asked who would be in charge of the punishment. The two men watched him for a second before shaking their heads and left. Alone in the dungeon, tied up, Draco found it difficult to stay calm as his senses got used to the dungeon. He could hear faint sounds from above, but not what they were saying, which could have been a good thing in case their conversation would scare him. After some time in the dark his eyes ajusted to the dimmed lights in the dungeon, he could also pick up sound s he hadn’t heard earlier, and the mouldy smell of the dungeon unnoticed passed him. The shackles above his head clanked as he shifted, trying to find a position which wasn’t too uncomfortable as he waited for the torturer. 

The doors opened, bright light flooding into the dark room, blinding Draco. He couldn’t see who it was at first, but his identity didn’t stay a secret for long. “My my, what do we have here?” the man asked, his voice dark and amusing. Fear ran through Draco’s body as he recognised the man, certain he would die by the end of his punishment. He heard many stories about Fenrir Greyback, and none had pleasant endings. “They said there was a gift waiting for me, but I had no idea just how expensive it would be.” Draco felt the man move closer, and instantly wanted to escape, but the chains kept him in place.

“Please,” he begged.

“Oh, I do love it when they beg, makes it much more fun as they discover there is no way out. Please _what?_ Please don’t hurt me? Please don’t scar me? Please don’t turn me? Or maybe, please don’t kill me.”

Draco tried to look at Fenrir, but the darkness hid him. He wasn’t sure if the man was joking or not, but that didn’t stop him from replying. “All of them,” he said, slightly hopeful, certain the man was joking.

“Aren’t you adorable? But joke aside, you can only pick one, so which will it be?” Draco thought back at his options, not sure if he heard them all.

“Don’t kill me,” he said, even if he was certain he would wish for death by the time Fenrir was done. 

“I could accept your request, but I won’t.” Draco closed his eyes as an unpleasant feeling passed through him. “I won’t, because my orders were clear, you are to live. So, because I’m feeling rather kind today, I’ll let you change your answer.”

He knew he should feel relieved the Dark Lord didn’t want him dead, even though it wasn’t out of mercy. “Don’t turn me,” he said, somehow hoping it was another order Fenrir received.

“Deal.” The man stepped in front of Draco, his grin scaring Draco so much he had to look away for a moment. His teeth were sharp and yellow, looking as if they could tear through flesh as if it was nothing. Draco felt sick while wondering if the Dark Lord wished him to be turned, only to think of something else as he feared the answer.

He tried to shuffle further away from the beast, but the chains didn’t allow him to move far. He knew it wouldn’t be long before the punishment would begin, as he doubted Fenrir would want to waste time chatting. He was right as in the next moment Fenrir struck his cheek with the back of his hand; if he wasn’t tied up he was sure the force would send him to the ground.

Draco’s head ached and his cheek burned, tears started forming in his eyes, but he kept them back, wanting to stay strong as long as possible. A second blow on his other cheek, hurting just as much, making him wish he’d run away when he had the chance. He continued to hold back the tears, needing some kind of control over the situation. Draco lost count after the fifth slap, his face burning. He wondered how many bruises he would have when it was all ended, or how much blood he might lose, as he knew the werewolf enjoyed blood.

Up until then he used all his strength to stay silent, but with each blow he found it harder to hold back sounds, and before he knew it the room was filled with his screams.

“Such a good boy, strong and brave,” Fenrir teased and let a finger brush against his bruised cheek, which hurt almost just as much as the slapps had. Draco wondered how unrecognisable his face was, and if it would ever heal perfectly.

Fenrir then moved on to other parts of his body, punching him so hard Draco struggled to breathe, pulling his head back by Draco’s hair so far behind he feared his neck would break, scaring Draco by letting his sharp nails and teeth brush against his skin. Draco cried, tears running down his sore skin as he pleaded with the man to stop, which the man laughed at.

The beast loved his job, it was something he made sure Draco knew, telling him about previous tortures, where the goal was death. Telling him of the one time he tore someone’s heart out while they were still living, of the time he ripped out someone’s throat with his teeth, or the time he broke almost every bone in a person’s body before allowing them to die.

His nails ran down Draco’s body, a cold shiver passing through his body every time he felt the sharp tip scrape against his skin. The nails didn’t penetrate his skin, instead he teared the layers of fabric on Draco’s body, slowly exposing his naked flesh, which Draco avoided looking at as he knew his skin was all damaged.

“Did you know he gave me permission to do whatever I wanted to you, and given that I have the whole night with you, I know we’ll have some fun.” Draco shivered at the thought, afraid to think about different things the werewolf would do to him. He tried to stand as still as possible when he felt the sharp nails run down his skin, afraid of it punctuating his skin and infecting him with the curse. Pieces of clothes landed on the floor around him, but the clothes were soon forgotten as a sharp pain rushed through his body from his hips. He looked down, and was shocked to see Fenrir’s nails buried inside his skin, blood running down his leg.

“I thought you weren’t going to turn me,” Draco cried before he could think, flinching as he noticed the look on Fenrir’s face.

“Oh, this won’t actually turn you, not completely. You see, there is no full moon tonight.” He wasn’t able to stop the tears as he thought about the curse, deciding that if he lived through the punishment he would one day kill Fenrir. The pain increased as Fenrir dug his nails even deeper, and Draco screamed again as blood trickled down his leg. “What’s the matter, don’t like what I’m doing?” Draco didn’t answer, knowing nothing he said would improve his position.

Fenrir then did something which really shouldn’t have surprised Draco, and yet, he found himself shocked and sick by the scene. Fenrir pulled his nails out of Draco’s skin, then leaned down and licking the blood. “I enjoy fresh flesh, but when I can’t have that, I’ll take fresh blood.” Draco screamed again as the nails punctuated the inside of his thigh, his skin painted red as his blood wouldn’t stop flowing down his legs. Fenrir continued to lick his wounds, his tongue pressing against the punctured wounds, causing even more pain to shoot through Draco’s leg. Draco suffered so much he wasn’t aware of the tongue which was slowly making it’s way closer to his cock, gasping in shock as he felt the wet muscle licked his limp cock. It didn’t excite him, not like the time Pansy showed him how skilled she was. He tried to move away, afraid the man would bite off his cock, which according to him, happened to one unfortunate man. He didn’t, instead he seemed to enjoy playing with the limp flesh, until Draco’s cheeks burned red by embarrassment. His cock continued to stay limp, and the few times it threatened to betray him the humiliation of his position, and pain from the wounds, would hold it back.

“I’m not impressed by your size, boy,” he said in a mocking tone. Draco concentrated on a crack in the ceiling, afraid to look at Fenrir. His eyes were glued at the ceiling, but he could still see what the man was doing, and it certainly wasn’t difficult to recognise the sounds of him opening his trousers. “This is what a cock should look like.” Draco continued to ignore him, wishing he could have ended his suffering sooner. “Look at it boy,” Fenrir growled. “Look.” Draco had no choice but to look as Fenrir’s nails dug into his jaw, forcing his head down. He could have closed his eyes, but feared what Fenrir would do to him if he continued to oppose him.

He stared, and what he saw scared him. Fenrir had the largest cock he’d seen on a man, but then again, he was no man, but a monster. Draco fought the hold on his jaw, needing to escape. Fenrir wouldn’t release him, instead his nails dug deeper, punctuating his skin. Everything he did was painful, but no matter if it hurt, Draco continued to fight him the only way he could. “Don’t worry; I’ll go slow, at first.” The nails released his face, then moved down his chest, their sharp edges leaving a red trail. “Who knows, maybe you’ll learn to enjoy it.” Draco doubted he would.

When Fenrir moved behind him, his nails leaving red lines all over Draco’s back, breaking Draco’s skin from time to time. Draco trembled, even more so when Fenrir spit on him, right on the crack of his ass. He stirred slightly as he knew what Fenrir wanted to do to him. Big fingers with sharp nails spread his ass cheeks, before Fenrir spit a second time. “Your cock isn’t impressive, but your ass sure is,” Fenrir mocked, rubbing a slick finger against the hole. Draco felt the sharp nail as it scraped against his skin, threatening to rip him open.hbb

“Such a pretty toy, with pretty marks, don’t you think?” He couldn’t stop the tears from running down his face as he was made aware of his position, his arms aching as he wasn’t used to holding them up for as long, the skin beneath the cuffs sore from the friction. “Tell me what you are,” Fenrir snarled against his ear, his rotten breath making Draco sick. “Do you know?” It was tempting to shake his head, but was afraid to move as he felt fingernails holding onto his hips. “If you don’t know yet, then you will by the time I’m done with you.”

Draco wasn’t able to think before he felt something large press against his hole. He wasn’t an idiot and knew what it was, which scared him as Fenrir’s cock was huge. It didn’t push through his tiny hole at once as Draco feared, instead Fenrir rubbed his cock up and down his crack, smearing the precome around his hole. Even though he didn’t force his cock in at once, it didn’t mean he would take it slow. Carefully he pushed, the massive flesh slowly widening his hole. Draco gasped for breath as the pain travelled up his back, increased every second. “Good boy,” Fenrir moaned, his nails scraping down Draco’s back, increasing his suffering. Something ran down his thighs, and as Draco looked down he could see blood, his blood. Blood didn’t make him ill, but as he knew the source of it, and felt the pain, his mind felt lighter, and before he knew it he passed out. 

He was brought back with a brutal slap on his face. “Wake up sleepyhead,” Fenrir mocked. Draco felt as weak and sick as before he passed out, the pain in his ass feeling worse. He wanted to throw up, he wanted to cry for help, he wanted to die, but none of those things happened. Instead he stood there as Fenrir informed him his whole cock was up Draco’s ass, and he would fuck him raw. Tears flooded from his eyes as he closed them.

“Your pretty ass looks great with my cock inside it. Be happy you’re bleeding, as it’s the only lube you’ll get.” Draco couldn’t stop crying, his chest aching each time he breathed, his blood pulsing through his bruised body, begging for death.

The second Fenrir moved, pulling his massive cock out of Draco’s broken ass, he screamed. Everything before that was enough for him to beg for death, but as Fenrir fucked him, Draco was certain he was slowly killing him. His legs trembled, struggling to hold his weight as Fenrir pushed back in, slamming into Draco’s ass. “Aren’t you a little bitch, huh?”

Draco screamed, his body on fire. “Please,” he begged. “Please stop!” He tried to move away, but Fenrir’s nails held him back, digging into Draco’s hips. Draco screamed again, shutting his eyes so hard he was seeing stars.

“Scream all you want, nobody will save you, you’re mine.” Draco shook his head, not wanting to listen. “You’re mine, and nothing you say will save you. I should rip you apart, tear your head off, eat you up.” Draco wished he would do that instead, as he wanted the pain to stop, but he didn’t have the strength to beg.

His body trembled as Fenrir thrusted his cock up his ass, his body so exhausted it was going numb. “Don’t faint again, I want you to be aware of everything I’m doing to you, every pleasure you give me.” Draco moaned when Fenrir’s nails ran down his back, slashing up his skin. He wondered just how many scars he would be left with. “Scream for me,” Fenrir asked, digging his nails into Draco’s sides, deeper and deeper until even the exhaustion couldn’t numb the pain, and Draco screamed until his lungs aching, and his throat was sore. Fenrir growled behind him, his nails moving deeper as the pace fastened, fucking Draco so hard he was afraid his neck would fall off his shoulders.

“You filthy whore. Tell me what you are, tell me or I’ll rip your head off.” Draco wished he knew what to say, because if it meant an ending to his suffering, he would do anything.. “Tell me you’re my whore.”

“I’m your whore, I’m your filthy whore.” He was in so much pain he would have admitted to far nastier things if it meant the ending of his suffering. His answer must have pleased Fenrir as he groaned, ramming his cock a few more times into Draco before he came deep inside him. The pain killed any trace of pleasure he could have, but the thought of being filled with come somehow excited him. It was sick that he should find one thing he enjoyed after an animal beat him, slashed him up and fucked him raw, but he couldn’t help it.

“You’ve been a good fucktoy,” Fenrir whispered next to his ear as the cock slipped out of his broken ass, and the nails were pulled out of his skin. “I’ll get someone fix you up, to make sure there are no permanent damages which might kill you before the night is over.” Draco didn’t listen as he hang there, his body throbbing, and his ass bleeding. He wanted to sleep, and wondered what Fenrir would do to him if he did, but as it couldn’t be far worse than what he had already done, Draco closed his eyes and let the exhaustion take over.

He knew he must have drifted off for a bit as he heard strange voices behind him, questioning if he was already dead, pitying him for the punishment before they cast several healing spells on his broken body. Draco wanted to tell them to let him die, but no words escaped his sore throat, and before he could try harder, he was taken far away from reality, taken to a place where he couldn’t feel pain.

He didn’t know how long he slept before rough slaps on his face brought him back. His body still ached, and he wasn’t able to open his eyes as his eyelids felt ten times heavier, but he knew who it was. “Wake up, sleeping beauty, it’s time for the next round.”

“Please kill me,” Draco begged, wanting it all to end.

“Aren’t you adorable,” Fenrir laughed, scraping his nails against Draco’s body. “If you wish to die, then you must beg the Dark Lord, after I’m done with you.” The next thing Draco heard was his own screams as Fenrir dug his nails into his chest, twisting them around until Draco feared he would throw up from the pain. “Fresh blood,” Fenrir moaned as the second torture session began.


End file.
